


Admissions of the Accidental Kind

by Katflap (Batman_in_Lingerie)



Series: Devils [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Romance, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bottom Clark Kent, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Humor, Top Bruce Wayne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21990973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batman_in_Lingerie/pseuds/Katflap
Summary: Bruce may or may not have just proposed to Clark.And of course the idiot had to say yes.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Series: Devils [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1476668
Comments: 44
Kudos: 309
Collections: DC Universe





	Admissions of the Accidental Kind

**Author's Note:**

> I really have to stop this newly emerging trend of writing sequels in a series before finishing the previous installment, but I can't help it! The need to post was too great, and I feel like I haven't done anything productive in a while, so I wanted to post something to show I am still writing, albeit slowly.
> 
> I will say, this fic can be read as a stand alone. You can always read the previous parts if you like, but it isn't necessary. 
> 
> Also the usual warning that this contains a lot of bad jokes and awkward humor. I hope you enjoy <3

“Dinner?” Bruce asked in that off handed kind of way that Clark knew meant Bruce had already decided on the answer, and was only asking Clark to make him feel somewhat involved in the decision making process.

  
  
“Sure.” He said with a bob of the head, knowing that was the only answer he was meant to give to that question. He went to the closet and pulled out one of his nicer shirts. “Where were you thinking?”

  
  
“Paris."

Clark huffed a laugh. "And a restaurant here wouldn’t do because?"

"Because it just won't." Bruce said as he did his tie, not even bothering to look up at Clark. "We’ll take the plane, I had it fueled this evening. It’s waiting at the airport."

Clark began to button up his shirt. “I guess it has the added benefit of giving us some anonymity. Less likely for anyone to recognize you for one.” It was also one of the cities on Clark's bucket list.

  
“Exactly.” Bruce reached for his belt, looping it through. “Also, after dinner, there is this little pastry shop I think you’d like. We'll go there for dessert ”

  
  
“Oh?” Clark smiled, though it was less caused from the idea that he’d be enjoying tonight's food and more because Bruce was thinking of him whilst he planned it all. 

  
“Yes.” Bruce said as he looked at himself in the mirror; failing to elaborate.

  
  
Clark had just finished dressing when Bruce turned back around, his eyes catching his jacket on the chair near Clark. “I just need to grab-”

Clark waved his hand. "I got it."

Bruce's eyes widened by a fraction. "No, it’s fine-"

"I'm right here anyway." Because he was, he brought his hand down onto the jacket.

"Clark. I got it." He said as made his way over to him brusquely, but Clark was already lifting it.  
  


“Here-” but as Clark went to pass it over, something fell out of the pocket.

It hit the ground with a clatter. 

  
It opened.

A ring fell out.

It took a while to click in Clark’s mind what he was actually seeing, because he wasn’t the brightest bulb out there by any means, but looking at the ring on the floor and slowly panning up to Bruce's horror stricken expression, told him enough for the final piece of the puzzle to settle in his mind, and his mouth fell open. “Is that…?”

  
  
Bruce was already on the floor. He snapped the ring into the box and shoved it in his pocket. “ _Why_ did you do that? I told you I'd get it!”

  
  
Clark wasn’t actually paying attention to Bruce at that moment, he was instead focused on that little box in his pocket that he couldn't see through. Of course it was lead lined. “Were you going to propose to me?” He asked quietly.

  
  
Bruce's face was beet red, his lips drawn thin. “ _No_ .”

  
  
“No? You just had an engagement ring ready in your jacket for something else entirely?”

Clark expected Bruce to continue on with his futile attempts at denial, but then the box was being thrown at Clark instead, and Bruce’s face bore nothing but frustration. “You _ruined_ it, you colossal ass hat.”

They stood there for a moment, before Clark crouched down and picked up the box, and this time, opened it himself. He was greeted by a modest gold wedding band, with several small diamonds running around the perimeter. He looked up at Bruce. “So you _were_ going to propose?” 

“Yes, you _moron_. Of course I was, and if i’d have known you’d ruin it with your inability to let me pick up my own things, I wouldn’t have bothered!”

"Well, I’m sorry, okay?" Clark bit back sharply. "But it's _your_ fault for just leaving it your jacket pocket." 

"Oh? This is _my_ fault?" Bruce asked indignantly, holding his hand up to Clark. "Give me the ring. Now."

"No." Clark said holding it close, fearing Bruce would try and snatch it. "It’s mine now. You proposed to me.”

"I haven't actually proposed yet." Bruce said blandly.

“Well, too bad! I've already said _yes_." Clark’s face grew redder as he reached into the box and slid the ring onto his finger. It fit perfectly. "Sucks to be you because we’re getting married!" He held out his hand and brandished at Bruce, wiggling his fingers.

Bruce's face was growing steadily redder along with Clark's, they had been stood there for an uncomfortably long amount of time, just staring at each other, cheeks aflame, waiting for who was going to be the first one to crack. 

It was Bruce.

"I want a winter wedding." He seethed.

"Summer." Clark snapped back.

"Inside." Bruce crossed his arms. 

"Outdoors."

"Lilies."

"Roses."

"I would rather _die_ than have a single rose at our wedding." 

"Guess you're dying then cause i'm gonna _flood_ the fields with roses! ‘Cause that's where we’re getting married, Bruce! In a wheat field! At sunset! In _August_!”

"Not even getting my intestines ripped out for the rest of eternity, compares to the monstrosity you just described."

"Too bad! It's happening, Bruce."

"With what money?" Bruce asked, gesturing around them. “Do you plan on selling a kidney for this circus you’re planning?”

“Smallville. On the fields around the farm. Nice and cheap.” Clark said with a triumphant air as he crossed his arms.

“If we get married and one of the adjectives used to describe it is _cheap_ ; I will kill you, then kill myself, and then kill you again in the afterlife.”

Clark was on Bruce, how and when that occurred was beyond him, all he knew was that he had to touch him. “Not if I kill you first.” Clark said, his voice low in the back of his throat.

  
  
Bruce was reaching for his face, holding him there. “You'll kill me if you don't ram me into the bed, right this second.”

  
  
Clark smirked, his lips grazing Bruce's. “When you put it like that...” He muttered, watching as Bruce's eyes fluttered closed. He then pulled away. “I'll see you in Hell.” 

  
Bruce lunged for him, his lips finding Clark's and Clark didn't have the willpower to even attempt denying Bruce what he wanted for any longer, not just because he was definitely in favor of the idea of ramming Bruce in the mattress just as much as he was, but because they were _engaged_. He was marrying Bruce. He was- 

"Holy shit." He muttered

"Keep kissing me." Bruce said, as his lips kept pressing against Clark's in a flurry but Clark was suddenly very distracted. 

"Are we actually going to get married?" He asked. "Or am I dead and this is the afterlife?" Clark grabbed him by the shoulders and held him there, staring into those eyes. "Bruce am I dead?" 

"You will be if you don't go back to kissing me." The threat was very real. Clark could hear it from the rumble in his throat

He still elected to ignore it. "Yeah, yeah, in a minute. This is serious. You proposed. I said _yes_ . We are getting married. _Married_."

Perhaps sensing the moment was lost for now, Bruce spoke. " _Technically_ you inferred a proposal."

Clark quirked a brow. "So it's not official?"

He made a face. “I suppose it isn't.”

  
  
“Oh.” Clark said flatly, pulling away and surprisingly Bruce didn't try to stop him.

It took awhile for Bruce to speak, so long in fact, that Clark wondered if time had stood still and an indefinite amount of his life had been spent staring at the rosy colour on Bruce's cheeks; the way he bit at his lips as though trying to keep the words trapped in there, his eyes that were looking everywhere but at him. Eventually his mouth did fall open and the faintest of whispers came out. "...Will you marry me?" 

Clark thought for a moment. "No."

Bruce blew a raspberry and whatever was left of his gentle expression was quickly engulfed with a look a mild annoyance. "Rude." 

"It’s ‘cause you didn't get on one knee!" Clark said crossing his arms. "It's not official if you're standing."

Bruce did as he was told. He was soon on one knee looking up at Clark with the tired eyes of man who was very quickly losing whatever will to live he had. 

"Well?" Clark asked when Bruce remained silent. 

He let out a long and strained sigh. "I already said it."

"Say it again."

"Clark, you colossal anus, will you marry me?"

Clark huffed. "Well now I can't say yes, can I? If I do, when people ask what you said and i'd have to tell them you called me an anus."

Bruce stood back up, bringing a hand up and laying it on Clark's chest as he spoke. "A _colossal_ anus."

"Yes, a colossal anus." Clark deadpanned. "Thanks for that, Bruce."

"You were the one who had to start thinking too much. If it were up to me, we’d be on the bed right now.” As if to illustrate his point, he looked at the bed forlornly.

“Well…” Clark said, bringing his hand up to his neck and rubbing it. “That could still happen.” 

Bruce looked at him and crossed his arms. “I’ve proposed to you enough times tonight.”

  
  
“Right, so how about...” Clark got onto the floor, on one knee. “Bruce Wayne, will you marry me?”

  
  
Clark spent a while watching Bruce's face flutter with a mixture of emotions, before finally settling on embarrassment. He wiped his hand across his face, and kept it there, staring down at Clark with wide eyes. He swallowed and with a shallow nod, said. “Yes.” 

That was all Clark needed “Yay!” He couldn't help but shout as he jumped back up onto his feet, grabbing Bruce by the shoulders. “See? _Now_ it's official.”

“You didn't give me a ring, though.” Bruce said, but he didn't look annoyed about that fact. In fact he was still smiling.

  
  
That was true, Clark thought as he tried to think of a solution to the issue. His eyes darted around the room, hoping to settle on anything that could fulfill this very specific purpose he had in mind. He then chanced a look up, towards the light fixture above them, and his prayers were answered. “Ah ha.”

  
  
He flew up and with both hands snapped off one of the ornate metal pieces that surrounded the light bulb. He could hear Bruce’s mouth open to protest, but before he could get any words out, Clark had already snapped it off, so his mouth closed again with a barely contained sigh being the only noise made. Clark came back down and cupped the piece of metal in his hands. He had never tried this before, but the worst thing that could happen was a small fire, which, in the grand scheme of things wasn't _really_ that bad.

He focused his heat vision into his cupped hands and heated the metal until it glowed with a bright red hue. He wrapped it around his pinky, and twisted the two ends together. He then brought the metal to his teeth and clamped down on the frayed edges of the band, leaving something that maybe, someone, somewhere, would describe as a ring.

If they were blind, and had no concept of what a ring was.

He gave it a quick blast of frost breath and pulled it off his finger. “Ta da!”

  
  
Bruce's eyes were wide as he stared at Clark. “You just _bit_ molten metal.”

  
  
“Yeah?” Clark said, quirking his head. 

“I-” but Bruce shook his head. “Never mind, forget I said anything.” He held up his hand and Clark slid the ‘ring’ onto his waiting finger. 

As Bruce stood there and regarded the metal now on his hand, Clark had time to ponder what he had just done, and quickly realised how terrible of an idea it actually was. The metal was horribly warped and the colour of it was mottled with the paint that had been on the original light fixture only now it was burned considerably, leaving black specks along its surface. That wasn't even mentioning the obvious teeth marks that comprised the prong, which should have been holding a diamond, and was in fact, not. Clark opened his mouth to speak.

  
  
“Don't.” Bruce held up his hand to Clark’s lips. “I love it.”

  
  
Clark however, was not convinced. “It’s awful.” He said, already reaching back for it. “I will buy you one tomorrow, I promise, this is just a placeholder.”

  
  
But Bruce was holding onto his hand, keeping it close to his chest. “No. I’m keeping it.”

  
  
Clark knew not to argue. If Bruce wanted to keep the malformed 'not' ring, he knew he couldn’t stop him even if he tried, so he held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. So we both have rings. _Now_ it's official. Hell, If anything it’s double official.” Something about those words caused the butterflies in Clark’s stomach to return and he coughed, looking away. “So, now what did you…?” he wrung his hands and chanced a look up at Bruce, who was not mirroring his expression and was in fact smirking.

  
  
“On the bed, boy scout.” 

  
  
“What are you going to do to me?” Clark said, not even attempting to sit on the bed with any amount of grace. He was lounging in what he hoped was an alluring manner, but really knowing himself it probably came across more desperate than any grown man had a right to look waiting for the inevitable fornication that came post-proposal. 

“Fuck you, obviously.” Bruce said as he went to the bedside cabinet and opened it. He reached in and pulled out a small bottle, throwing it onto the bed spread. “Or you me, either or.”

  
  
Clark bit his lips. “I guess, you could...” He looked down at himself in a somewhat self conscious manner. He didn't exactly bottom frequently and when he did it wasn't the best. The couldn't help but think that if he were to right now, he would be the reason that this night, which at the moment had the potential to contain an awe inspiring bout of sex, would instead feel like the myth of Sisyphus; where in Bruce was the man himself and Clark were his unyielding boulder. 

Bruce, knowing Clark better than perhaps he even knew himself, sent him a reassuring smile. “Stop overthinking.”

  
  
“I can't help it.” Clark said, falling back onto the bed and bringing his hands to his face. “I’m not good at bottoming, Bruce. Maybe I should top instead. You prefer it when I top.” 

  
  
“No no, I can top.” Bruce said, working his shirt off.

“But i’m all-” Clark said, as he waved down at himself. “And you’re all-” he then waved his hand at Bruce.

  
“Whilst i'm sure that made complete sense to you, i'm afraid to say i'm far less quick on the uptake.” Bruce threw his shirt to the side. “Clark we do this every time; short of you crushing my dick with your sphincter, you will do fine. I promise.”

  
“But what about last time?” Clark sat up, reaching for Bruce. “I broke your finger, Bruce.” 

Bruce waved his hand. “That was nothing. Do you know many bones I've broken over the years, Clark? A finger is small in the grand scale of things. And besides, you didn't crush my dick, so what's the issue?” 

Clark made a face. “I know you say that to be comforting, but it genuinely worries me how many injuries you’ve had in your life.”

  
“And yet, here I am, still alive.” He held his arms up wide and proud. “So don't worry about me, okay?” he stepped forward, bringing his hands to Clark’s face and cupping his cheeks. “Let me make you feel good tonight.” 

Clark’s cheeks grew pink. “Only if you're sure.”

  
  
“Oh, I'm more than sure.” Bruce said with a breathy laugh. “Now get naked so I can plow you.” 

Clark let out a laugh. “God, I forget how smooth you are when you’re horny.” 

Bruce gave a half shrug. “What can I say? I'm a modern day Casanova.”

Clark sat up fully and began working off his clothes. Including the dress shirt he had put on for this evening. Despite the allure Paris had, he knew in that moment there was nowhere he would rather be than here.

Once naked, he sat back and looked up at Bruce through his lashes. “How do you want me?”

  
  
Bruce was now also naked and watching Clark in deep thought. “So many different ways, but for tonight, this is just fine.” Bruce set his knees on the bed. “Hold your legs up for me.”

  
  
Clark tried to suppress the blush he knew was coming, but it was hard. Bruce always looked so good like this, and Clark couldn't imagine himself coming anywhere close. He felt like a newborn deer trying to walk, fumbling over himself as he closed his eyes tried not to think about how exposed he was in this moment. “Like this?”

  
  
“Clark, open your eyes.”

  
  
He did as he was told, squinting up at Bruce. 

  
Bruce grabbed him by the thighs. “You are so beautiful, I could spend hours writing sonnets dedicated to your splendor.” 

“Bruce…” 

“No no. I mean it. I cant rhyme for shit, but for you I'd try.”

  
  
Clark couldn't help but laugh. “Okay, I got it. Now are you going to plow me like you promised?”

  
  
Bruce closed his eyes and let out a breathy sigh. “Oh, its sounds _so_ good to hear you say that.” He reached for the bottle of lube, and uncapped it. It was bad that the sound of that alone, set a thrill down Clark’s spine, but it did and he had to bite his lip to keep Bruce from knowing as much. 

He coated his finger and reached for Clark. In the past, not including the time Clark actually did break Bruce's finger, they found the best way of preventing any undue injury was to take their time in preparing Clark. Bruce ran his finger along his hole, letting him get used to the sensation and he clenched hard at the feeling, not having to worry just yet about hurting anyone. 

“It's sort of mesmerizing doing this.” Bruce said, conversationally. “Just-” he repeated the motion, keeping his finger just outside of Clark and only occasionally pressing the pad of his finger in. That alone was enough to push Clark to the edge of his self control and he feared what more would do.

“Oh God.” Clark ground out. “Bruce we're gonna have to-”  
  


“Yeah, yeah.” He muttered as he reached for Clark’s dick, and grasped him tightly. “Let’s take the edge off.”

  
  
Clark's head fell back as Bruce pumped him, though his finger never went in, it stayed just outside and Clark realized quiet quickly that the anticipation for what was to come was the main driving force was his steadily rising orgasm. He felt it building more and more, and he chanced a look at Bruce, saw the quiet look of concentration there as he worked Clark with practiced precision, and that was all it took. “Fuck!”  
  


He came and hit Bruce squarely in the eye. “ _Ah_.” Bruce brought his hand up, and attempted to wipe it away. "Fuck."

Clark tried to gather up the strength to help him, but he was still riding the post orgasm bliss and honestly it was sort of entertaining watching Bruce hunch over the bedding and rub his face into the sheets. Once his eye was semen free he sat back up, and whilst there was still some of it smeared across his face, he either didn't seem to notice or just didn't care. “Okay, feeling better?”

  
Clark nodded vigorously and Bruce returned it with a smirk. He quickly went back to Clark’s ass. He set one hand under Clark’s hips, ushering him up a little higher. He then brought his other hand back to his hole, and began repeating his earlier motions. Though this time, he dipped his finger fully inside.

There was an involuntary clench, one that for a moment caused a wave of panic to follow not long after it, but one look at Bruce’s face told him it wasn't bone shattering with its intensity. So he fell back into the sheets and tried to keep himself as loose and as calm as he could, ready for when Bruce would inevitably enter him.

That thought alone was enough to cause Clark to start rocking back onto Bruce's fingers with a growing vigor, and when he felt them retreat and something else take their place, he knew he should have been prepared, and yet, he must not have been if he's surprised gasp was anything to go by. 

  
“Do you need me to jerk you off again?” Bruce said, holding his cock just outside of Clark.

“I don't-” Clark shook his head, willing himself to relax. “No, i'm good.” 

“Okay.” Bruce said, bracing himself against Clark.

Bruce slid in slowly, giving Clark time to adjust as he kept taking longer and deeper breaths. Despite having done this a few times before, feeling Bruce inside of him was always a new experience, with each occurrence bringing with it its own series of moments for which it would be remembered. The most recent time Clark broke Bruce’s finger, and the time before that, he nearly crushed Bruce’s hips with his rigorous riding, and the time before that they don't talk about. Ever. 

They pinky promised and everything. 

This time, what would stick with Clark was the glide of Bruce within him, the look of on his face as he grabbed Clark firmly by the hips and pushed and pulled him with far more strength than he would have been able to use with a human. As he thrust, he reached for one of Clark’s thighs and lifted his leg up and over his shoulder, using the leverage to thrust even harder into him.

Clark kept his eyes on him, and before long, that telltale feeling rose up in him, dancing across his skin like electricity until it left him feeling breathless. “Bruce, i'm gonna-” 

Bruce didn't pull out, like a small part of Clark expected, and if anything the realization that Bruce was going to stay inside as he came was enough to push Clark over the edge.

His orgasm rippled through him slowly, and Clark had to fight the urge to force it. He had to let it play out without his intervention. It was almost too much, he bit his lip and fought back a scream, and just as he was doing so, he felt Bruce cum into him.

  
“ _Oh_.” Clark let out as a broken whimper. Bruce reached his cock, wrapping his hand around him and milking him as another ripple ran through Clark. He tightened around Bruce, though he was scarcely aware he was even doing it.

The low groan from Bruce was enough to let him know he hadn’t gone too far. And despite now both fully coming down from their orgasms, Bruce stayed inside Clark, wrapping both his arms around Clark’s thigh and mumbling into his skin. “So good.” 

Clark sent him a lazy grin. “And no broken fingers.”

“Or dicks.” Bruce added. He pulled out and with little more than a cursory wipe of his penis on the bedding, he crawled across the bed and fell down next to Clark, firmly planting his face into the pillow. 

“Are we showering or?”

  
  
Bruce didn't so much as budge.

  
  
“Got it.” 

After half a minute, Bruce rolled over to him. “That was great. 10/10. Would plow again.” 

Clark gave a shy smile. “I'm glad.”

They lay there in comfortable silence. As Bruce half dozed, Clark brought his hands up to him and began his favourite post sex activity of stoking Bruce’s hair. The task was made somewhat more difficult than usual with the semen that was now dried into his fringe, but he just moved his hand further back and stroked through the hair there instead. 

After Bruce had rested a little while longer, he sat up and looked down at Clark fondly. “We’re getting married.”

  
  
Clark couldn't help it, he sat up with a burst of energy. “I know!” He was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. “Also, I just want you to know, I don't mind where or how we get married, just so long as we get married.” 

“I mean, I liked your idea.”

  
  
Clark made a face. “Really? The idea that you said, and I quote, ‘not even getting my intestines ripped out for the rest of eternity, compares to the monstrosity you just described’ about?” 

Bruce waved his hand. “I was being dramatic.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the pillows. “Honestly, it sounded great. I just didn't want you to know that.” 

  
“Right.” He rolled his eyes. “God forbid I win something over you.” 

“I’m sure I could think of something on par with yours, but what point is there when you already came up with something so perfect?”

  
  
Clark’s cheeks grew pink. “You really liked it?”

  
  
“Yes.” Bruce said with a small smile. “It’s private, romantic, and holds significance for us. Hell, I was even going to propose to you in Smallville at one point, so it seems only right we get married there.”

  
  
“You were gonna do what now?” Clark said, his mouth falling open. 

“Paris wasn’t my first choice, I was gonna propose to you in Smallville, but then I changed my mind.” 

“Why?”

Bruce shrugged, looking away. “I just did.” 

Clark pursed his lips. “Where in Smallville? On the farm?”

  
“Do you really need to know?” Bruce asked with quiet resignation, as though already knowing Clark’s stubbornness meant the next word out of his mouth was as inevitable as the tide.

  
“Yes.” 

Bruce shook his head, and sighed. “Do you remember our first date?”

  
  
Over the years he and Bruce had been on plenty of dates and yet their first one sprung up in his mind with relative ease. “Yeah, that little Italian place in Gotham’s east side. You got the carbonara. What has that got to do with it?”

  
  
Bruce looked mildly impressed, but he shook his head. “No, not that one. I guess ‘date’ was the wrong word. We weren’t ‘dating’ at that point.” He let out a breath and looked away from Clark’s curious gaze. “It was the first time I came to Smallville. You were so excited to show me everything there and at first I thought I was going to be a glorified stable hand, but then you said we’d be going horseback riding-”

  
  
“And you said you had no idea how to ride.” Clark said softly, the memory of that day slowly coming back to him.

  
  
“Right.” Bruce said with a crisp nod. “Only I did, I just wanted you to keep touching me as you taught me how to.”

  
  
Clark rolled his eyes. “Of course, I should have known it was a ploy of yours.”

Bruce elected to ignore him as he kept speaking. “After you were done teaching me, you led us away from the farm along a trail and after a few hours we ended up at this little creek in the middle of the woods. You said you used to go there all the time when you were a kid; try and catch the fish in the water with your bare hands. Then you-”

  
  
“Then I tried to do it again.” Clark supplemented, already burrowing his face in his hands as the rest of the memory slowly dawned on him.

  
  
“Yes, you tried to catch one to show me and you ended up falling into the water instead.” Bruce poked him in the thigh, and Clark peeked through his hands to see Bruce smiling at him. “You were soaking wet, and whilst I was laughing at you, what did you do?”

  
  
“I pulled you in too.” Clark said with a growing smile.

  
  
“I was so mad, but that didn't last long.” Bruce’s smile was still there as he shook his head. “The water was so cold but all I could think about was how warm your hand was as it held onto me. I wanted you to keep it there, and-” he looked down at the bed. “You did.”

  
  
Clark’s jaw set. “I did.” 

Bruce eyed him. “I was going to kiss you then and there, but-”

  
  
“But I thought my phone had fallen into the water, too.”

  
  
Bruce rolled his eyes. “Yes, and then-”

  
  
“We spent the next hour looking for it-”

  
  
“And-”

  
  
“Then I remembered I left my phone on the bank whilst I tried to catch the fish.”

  
  
They looked at each other for a moment before a slow laugh worked its way from the two of them, Bruce brought his hand to his lips, trying to hide the smile there, but the edges of his grin poked out. “You were such an idiot.” He looked up, his eyes glittering. “Then and now. Nothing has changed, really.”

  
  
Clark grinned. “And yet you still love me.”

  
  
Bruce huffed. “Yes, well.”

“So that was it?” Clark said, bringing his knees up and hugging them. “You were gonna take me to the creek? Why?” A thought struck Clark and with a childlike burst he called out. “Oh my God, Bruce! You could have hidden the ring in the creek and then we could have tried to find it together! Like old times!” 

Bruce eyed him warily. “Yes, ‘ _hide_ ’ a forty thousand dollar ring in a creek. Sounds like a great plan, Clark.”

  
  
“Wait-” Clark looked down at his hand. “ _This_ was forty thousand dollars!?” He could practically see the value decreasing the longer it stayed on his clammy finger. He wanted to take it off and put it in a showcase where he could admire it from afar and not inevitable lose it, possibly in a creek.

“I was low balling the figure because I thought the real price would shock you, turns out I still went too high.” Bruce tented his hands and pursed his lips. “It was actually forty dollars. Honest.”

  
“Bruce.” Clark deadpanned.

  
  
Bruce quirked a brow. “Four thousand?”

  
  
“ _Bruce_ .”

  
  
He threw his hands down. “Clark, I don't know what a reasonable price for these things are. If someone told me wedding rings cost a million dollars, I'd probably believe them.”

  
  
Clark rolled his eyes. “Oh, to be _that_ kind of rich.” He sighed wistfully.

  
“Well, when we marry, you will be.” He said with a resolute nod.

“Yeah.” Clark said leaning forward and kissing him. “When I get rich, I’m gonna buy _so_ many sweater vests.”

“Set your sights higher, Clark. You could buy the full sweater.”

  
“Of course.” He grinned. “I'll finally be able to afford sleeves.” He came in close to Bruce and brought his head just under his jaw, he turned his face to the skin there and placed a gentle kiss right on his pulse point. “Anyway, whilst the creek, or Paris, would have been nice. I liked this. It was-” he looked around the bedroom. “Sort of perfect.”

He felt Bruce nod beside him. “Yes it was. Especially as it meant I didn't have to actually choose between that or the other options. Fate chose for us it seems.”

  
  
“Wait.” Clark stilled. “ _Other_ options?” He pulled back and eyed Bruce. “Just how many ‘options’ were there, Bruce?”

  
  
Bruce thought for a moment. “Somewhere in the mid hundreds.”

  
  
Clark’s mouth fell open. “What.” He shook his head, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. “How?”

  
  
“How?” Bruce made a face. “Quiet easily. Every time I thought about a place, another would pop into my mind not long after. Take the creek, I remember it was the first time we ever spent quality time together without the pretense of work. It was just us, together, perfect in it simplicity.” He pressed his lips together. “But then I thought about the first time you kissed me; at the Christmas party, under the mistletoe. How you looked so scared afterward, as if I was going to push you away, but I didn't, I pulled you back to me and ripped your shirt in the process. Then I remembered the time we were eating hamburgers in the Batmobile after you had helped me deal with Ivy smothering half of Gotham in fauna.” He turned to Clark, his eyes bright. “I had barbecue sauce in my lip, and you wiped it off and licked it from your finger. You did it so absent mindedly, I didn’t even think you realise you did it and then you just went back to your own burger without a word. I thought about that day for months. I wanted to say something about it, but what would I have said? ‘I really liked how you cleaned the sauce from my lips?’ or ‘your fingers are a lot softer than I realised.’” He shook his head. “I don't know why it stuck with me so much, but it just felt so-”

  
  
“Intimate.” Clark said softly.

  
  
“Exactly!” Bruce said with a sharp nod. “The fact was I just couldn't decide between all the places I’ve thought about my love for you. Every place felt special in its own way, and when it came to trying to pick one, I just _couldn't_ . They all had their allure, and when it came to trying to actually choose a place to propose to you, it took everything in me to make a decision, but even then, the fear I made the wrong choice was always there.”

  
  
“None of them would have been ‘wrong,’ Bruce.” Clark said softly, reaching for his hand and holding it. “I bet every single place you thought of would have been perfect.”

  
  
He shook his head. “No. You were right.” He looked around the room. “The others would have been nice, but this-” he tightened his grip on Clark. “-Was perfect.”

“So why did you pick Paris in the end?”

  
  
“You haven't been there before.”

  
  
Clark nodded. “Right, so why did you pick it?”

  
  
Bruce pressed his lips together. “It was so hard to choose, that I decided to go down a different path entirely. All the other places already had a moment tied to them, and part of my apprehension over making a decision was that the proposal could taint the moments we’d already shared there, and the more I thought about it the more I thought I should propose to you somewhere new; where the proposal could be its own moment, and not have to compete with another, where I could have flubbed my lines and it wouldn’t have mattered because it would have been a new moment for us to add to our collection.”

Clark closed his eyes, fearing he may jump on Bruce should he maintain eye contact. “We have to go to Paris.”

“And we will.” Bruce said, pressing forward and kissing Clark on his forehead. “Remember what comes after a wedding? Seems Paris is the number one honeymoon contender.” 

“You have other contenders, I take it?”

  
  
“I may do.” Bruce said, with a small smile.

Clark grinned, and with a few more playful kisses along his face he let Bruce pull him down towards the bed. They pressed in close together, their bodies wrapping around one another with practiced ease. Clark fell asleep quickly, his dreams filled with rose covered fields and fish filled creeks.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed <3 
> 
> This version of Clark and Bruce are always so much fun to write, and I hope you all liked it too. 
> 
> As always, if you did like it, be sure to let me know! Until next time. <3


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